Primrose Path
by Sayaka-sama
Summary: Suigetsu is not at all a hard person to please. SuiKa. Take note of the rating.


**Disclaimer**: I don't own Naruto. Surprise of the year...

**A/N**: Yeah. I originally meant to have my KakaSaku sickfic done by this point, but it's rather hard to keep your eyes on the prize when you have smut bunnies prancing around and singing happy songs in your head. Ugh.

Ah well. At least I updated. 'Cause really, no fics for almost two months? UNACCEPTABLE.

For **Dark Hope Assassin**, for being absolutely awesome.

* * *

**Primrose Path**

Suigetsu is not at all a hard person to please.

Somewhat harsh, yes, a tad heartless and maybe a little bit --a lot-- of a hardass, but definitely not hard to please.

A hedonist he may not be, but that doesn't debar the fact that he enjoys being alive quite a lot. In a moment, in people, in the whole damn _world_, there is animation, vivacity in motion. Tides spewing. Dust settling. Suns waning. Moons climbing. Moving is chronic habit, irrefutable, manifest in everything sentient.

Fine and dandy, Suigetsu muses. But every now and again --every five minutes-- moments fall upon him. Moments where moving to and fro becomes too taxing, where the ebb and flow of things seem too swift for his preferences.

And he'll sit and wait. He'll be looking in instead of being in. He'll strive to feel the earth revolve under his feet. He'll kick back and wish he could relay a memo to the world and all the people in it that they're all moving too damn fast, that they all need to talk a stroll down the primrose path for once because damnit, we only live once so shut your flacid asses up and buckle down, you water-headed stuck-ups. Honestly...

Because Suigetsu himself is the living archetype of water; it, like himself, crashes and beats down mercilessly on weary shores, but it always retreats and waits to build up momentum again, and nothing could rush it. Absolutely nothing.

The young swordsman lives for moments like these, lives _in_ them. In these moments where he sits upon a windowsill in a bed-and-breakfast, eyes confined to the arcing sunset in the western sky. In these moments like the one he had a few seconds ago.

Moments when Karin isn't dragging him by the shell of his ear to places unknown and possibly unpleasant.

_Freaking psycho..._

Karin's clipped steps echo boldly down the close-spaced hallway, her back straight as a pole. She breathes with incensed huffs, doing her damndest to mentally muffle Suigetsu's stormy curses while she makes a sharp left turn into a vacant bedroom. Quickly, she releases her rigor mortis grip on Suigetsu's ear, faintly amused as he whiplashes into a brass bedpost while she clicks the door shut.

With a deep growl, he turns his eyes up at her.

"Who the _fuck _pissed in your cereal this morning, you cunt?! That was my _ear_!"

She snorts, nose wrinkling with distaste. "You don't say. In case you've resigned yourself to thinking I'm a complete retard, I'll have you know that I'm well read on human anatomy. I _know_ that was your ear, you fuckstick."

"Bite me."

"Maybe I will."

"Feh, well you can- ...wait, _what_?"

"I said, maybe I _will_ bite you."

He blinks for a brief second.

"Dude, do you have rabies or something? 'Cause if you need someone to put you out of your misery, you could've just said so." His grin spreads in time to his growing hopes that yes, poor, rabid, frothing-at-the-mouth Karin needs to be put down and he alone is the one noble soul able to pull it off. If only his zanbatou weren't so far away...

"Dumbass. You wish."

"Well, Doll...?"

"Well, what?"

"Well, what the hell was so desperately important that you needed to practically tear my ear off of my head to get me to pay attention? So help me, if this has something to do with Wonder Boy-"

"Sasuke isn't the issue here," she replies tersely, lip curling at the Uchiha's petname.

"Alright, cross that out then... hey, you're not drunk or touched in the head or anything, are you? Like that one time you got so trashed that you-"

"No, I'm not drunk. Are you going to let me finish?"

"If you tell me what the hell you're doing, maybe."

"Then let me finish!"

"Go ahead!"

"Shut _up_, assclown!"

"_Make me!_"

"SEX."

As hoped, he shuts up.

The minute of silence that flutters betwixt the two of them gives Karin more than enough time to chew things over. It is quite phenomenal, really, how easily anyone could be minimized to an azoic bulk of befuddlement at the sheerest mention of being tempest-tossed into the throes of bedroom-dancing.

Suigetsu's gaze meets Karin's square-on, his snaggletooth hanging artlessly over his bottom lip.

"... huh?"

"Sex, Suigetsu," she repeats tonelessly, enunciating every word as though she were tutoring him instead of beguiling him into being thoroughly snogged. "I. Brought you. Here. So that we. Can have sex. _Right_. _Now_."

Karin gathers that clarifying herself must have helped something click; his grin morphs from bemused to utterly shit-eating.

"Oh...? Is that so, Doll?"

At that, she stutters wildly, the skin of her cheeks blotched crimson. "L-look, don't read this the wrong way, alright? Sasuke is out of commision until he's fully recovered. Juugo would probably try to eat my appendix mid-coitus. You're physically intact and sound-of-mind. I'm horny. You wanna fuck or not?"

Nevermind 'shit-eating'. The look on his face tells Karin that he's practically swan-diving in his ego now. Cheeky bastard...

"Hmm, so you're saying I have a choice? Lesse, why don't you repeat that whole monologue _one_ more time, y'know, just to get me stimulated and-" He never gets around to finishing his query, courtesy of Karin's deathlock grip on his neck, which nearly knocks the wind out of him while he himself gets knocked backdown onto the stiff mattress.

And Suigetsu _would_ complain... if Karin doesn't take this open opportunity to strap her legs to his sides, her weight pushing down on his abdomen.

"Frankly, smartass," she begins. "No, you don't have a choice. You can be a good boy and follow along if you want. And if not, then you can just keep your hands to your sides and sit quietly while I fuck your head off."

That has him snickering. "You sound like a kindergarten teacher, Doll."

He scarsely hears her screeching cry of _"asshole!" _before half of his face winds up splattered on the opposite wall. Her hand smarts from the friction of her slap.

"Y'know," his voice warbles as he recollects himself. "You really need to lighten up. You're the one who pulled me in here, hmm? And I think the two of us should at least establish a safety word before this repeats itself."

"Fucker."

"It's what I do," he replies with waggling eyebrows. His smile stretches as his callused thumb begins circling around her exposed navel.

She sucks in a breath through clenched teeth.

"You better." And with that, a kunai flickers between her fingers.

Suigetsu barely has the time to widen his disbelieving eyes before Karin angles the edge of the kunai under the hem of his shirt and pushes upward, fabric parting without inhibition. The embossed lines of his pectorals glow under her gaze.

She stares. For quite a while.

"Hehe. You were expecting a potbelly, hmm?"

She huffs. "I was expecting you to be a beanpole."

"Happily disappointed?"

"Tch, retard. You're a disappointment anywa-aaah!" And it's all over for coherency from then on. Karin's muslces lock in place, legs clenching against Suigetsu's sides. Her senses narrow down to the lazy stroking of his cool tongue on her waist, roaming up and down, up and down.

Up... nibble on the skin of her ribcage.

Down... slow suckling on her hipbone.

His eyes are closed in concentration, unknowing of how close Karin's eyes are to crossing, though he is all too notified of her fingers in his hair, tugging, towing, fighting.

"You bastard... y-you..."

He tilts his head up from his ministrations, nuzzles his chin against her tummy. "Yes?"

"You... are going to _die_."

She would laugh at the fake pout he gives her if she weren't so aggravated, if she didn't feel so surrounded. His hands plant themselves on her hips and faintly she marvels at the way they wholly cover them.

She's never felt so small before.

"Well, that'll be no fun for you then, huh?"

"Gee, I wonder how I'll live without you. Ass..."

Given their current position, --Suigetsu sitting up whilst Karin is settled on her knees, hips hovering nimbly over his lap-- she can feel his weighty chuckle more than she can hear it, vibrating into her stomach, echoing deep and downward.

Something slithers against her quaking skin.

"You wouldn't, Doll."

Water.

_He turned his fingers into water._

And they're _everywhere._

Over her shoulder blades, across her spectrum, grazing the worn fabric of her bra, clasping the waistband of her shorts. They're everywhere all at once, and she can't decide at the moment whether she should club his head in or give herself over to the delirium of it all, just do as he does and just not _think_ for once.

Meanwhile, Suigetsu smothers his grin against the downy skin of her stomach, now damp from his attention. Tendrils move of their own volition, and if they're doing a piss-poor job of anything, he's not hearing much... aside from Karin's angry shivers, anyway. He can't comprehend for the life of him why anyone would want to work and hurry and run around when they could just do _this_ instead and take a walk along the primrose path, across mountains and over hills and up her back to fumble with the clasp of her--

"Karin?"

At the sound of Juugo's baritone voice, Karin stiffens where she sits and tries her damndest to feint being a wax statue.

Suigetsu, she notices with fury, has already melted into the bed.

_How come this shithead gets to sink into the floor whenever he pleases?_

All Juugo gives her is a subtle once over of her puckered and wet skin and her disarrayed hair before coughing.

"I'll go buy detergent, then."

Karin blinks, nonplussed. "Detergent?"

Juugo shrugs before taking hold of the doorknob. "For the sheets."

The door shuts with a gentle click, and all Karin can manage is to gape at it until Suigetsu cackles wetly under her.

"I think he's rooting us on, Doll," he suggests while his head and torso rise from the moist linen sheets.

"Fucktard," she growls. "You wish."

His newly-formed and frigid hands traipse up the skin of her fevered thighs, one heat clashing with another, a cold fire against a searing inferno.

He smiles.

"So do you."

* * *

YEAH DID I MENTION I'VE NEVER WRITTEN SMUT BEFORE? BECAUSE NOW THAT YOU KNOW, YOU'LL BETTER UNDERSTAND THE UTTER HELL I WENT THROUGH TO WRITE JUST A SMIDGEN OF THIS PURE CRAP I DARE CALL SMUT.

Comments, questions, wisecracks... whatever you have to say, go ahead and say it!

Also, I played around with my writing style in this one. Not too much, but enough. Like? Dislike? Don't give a rat's ass? Let me know.


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